top of page

Boy In Leaves

Somewhere deep inside a boy still peeks out

green forests overflowing from his eyes


Is the flurry of years to blame

that I have forgotten him so often?


Find him, find him, the wind of years commands

before decades’ gusts shake branches bare of leaves


Was that he, rolling in the grass down a slope

feet dangling from a log, head in some forgotten cloud?


Urinating six inches past the mark in the sand?


He, rowing under fountain’s rain, little passenger raging with delight

he, smiting a ball, carving a catapult?


Blow wind blow, there he is, playing poker for farthings

each coin bullion, around a pizza crumbed table in student lodgings


Look wind, is that not he, eulogizing companion killed by ghastly

accident, pulling phrases of praise from a shivering notebook


Too soon he disappears, a fallen leaf blown

into a heap of brown days


And who can find in autumn’s rakings

if and when the wind may glimpse him once again

To Go Back To
Hit your browser's

© Johnmichael Simon



bottom of page